


if i'm the only god, then you're the proof of my existence

by LittleEggBuddy



Category: Danny Phantom
Genre: Cults, Gen, Graphic Description of Corpses, Mild Blood, Non-Consensual Drug Use, Non-Consensual Touching, OCs - Freeform, Religious Imagery & Symbolism, non consensual stripping
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-02
Updated: 2020-04-02
Packaged: 2021-03-01 02:41:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,927
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23437867
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LittleEggBuddy/pseuds/LittleEggBuddy
Summary: Danny wakes up tied to a bed, naked, surrounded by robed figures. This could only end badly.For Phic Phight 2020
Comments: 13
Kudos: 112





	if i'm the only god, then you're the proof of my existence

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Marsalias](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Marsalias/gifts).



> Original prompt by Marsalias:  
> For centuries, the cult has anticipated the glorious rise and return of Lord Phantom. That time is at hand. All they need to bring him fully into the mortal world is the perfect sacrifice: Danny Fenton.
> 
> Please read the tags guys, stay safe. Also if you like it, please consider leaving me a comment (especially constructive criticism) its what inspires me to keep writing :)
> 
> Title from the song world.execute(me) by Mili

Danny came back to himself slowly, awareness returning in a trickle rather than a rush. His thoughts felt thick and heavy like they were obscured by a heavy fog. He would have pushed everything away, attempted to fall back asleep if not for the dull throbbing in his temples. He didn’t dare open his eyes, feeling that any kind of stimulus would leave him spitting up bile. Ugh, was he getting sick? Even with his eyes closed, Danny scrunched his nose in disdain. Spooky ghost healing powers were useless if they couldn’t even prevent the common cold. Unless it was like, a ghost flu, or something similarly terrible. Or maybe he’d be perfectly fine if his bed wasn’t so incommodious… Wait. This wasn’t his bed. 

Whatever he was laying on was most definitely exasperating the issue. Gently pressing down, Danny could tell the surface was thinly padded; although it did nothing to conceal the knobbly frame it was covering. It must have been some type of metal cot, as he could hear springs protest as he tried to squirm into a more comfortable position. 

Wait, no. That position was even worse. He let out a soft moan as his head was wracked with a wave of pain. He was glad his stomach seemed to be empty, or he probably would have vomited all over himself. Was he at a sleepover? If so, he’d probably need to go home early tomorrow, as he was unquestionably coming down with something. Attempting to raise his hands to rub his temples, he was met with wire digging into his wrists. Involuntarily, Danny let out a sharp hiss that he quickly tried to conceal. 

Kidnapped it was then, he’d been holding out hope he’s simply fallen asleep on Sam’s futon. Like he could ever get that lucky. Subtly nudging his core with his mind, he found it to be just as sore and drained as the rest of him. No ghost powers for him then. Damn. 

He briefly pondered whether or not it was even worth it to wrench his eyes open. He decided to feign sleep for as long as possible, the longer they thought he was unconscious, the longer he had time to plan for escape. Plus it gave him time to play his favorite game: Vlad or Random Child Snatching Ghost? Who has taken it upon themselves to violate Danny’s boundaries today folks? Cast your bets now! (Geez, he was more out of it than he thought. That wasn’t even funny. What was wrong with him?) That was when the voices started up, as per usual. 

“The Lamb has awakened-”  
“Quickly! Prepare the atonement-”  
“-Hour is upon us at last!”

Despite not being very loud out all, the voices seemed to hammer at his skull and he bit at the inside of his gums to keep from groaning. Danny made a mental note that they lacked the distinct echoey quality ghost’s voices possessed... and they weren’t Vlad, which meant he was captured by… Humans? Not the GIW either, from the batshit rambling going on to the left of his cot, he’d wager that these people were freaks of an entirely different variety. Danny tried to think of what happened before he’d fallen “asleep” but drew nothing but blanks. The last thing he remembered was eating shitty off-brand fruit loops for breakfast then waking up tied to this bed. So, unless they snatched him straight out of his kitchen, highly unlikely with two black belts for parents, he’d been snatched on his way to school. At least the probable head injury explained the memory loss and headache, even if it was little comfort. That left the concerning factor of how long he’d been unconscious for, probably only a day, factoring his accelerated healing into account. Alright, he could work with this but getting out of the mess he was in was going to be... interesting.

Figuring that pretending to sleep would no longer get him anywhere, Danny wrenched his eyes open and immediately was blinded by the fluorescent lights overhead. He clamped his eyes closed and bit back a cry as he felt his stomach roil. Shit. Bad Idea. Very Bad Idea. 

“Turn that damn light off. Can’t you see how it affects The Lamb? The sacrifice must be purified and we can’t do that if you’re blinding the thing!” A gruff, older masculine voice started shouting orders from somewhere a bit further from where Danny was restrained. 

He saw behind his eyelids that the lights had been flicked off and only then did he ease open his eyes again. He was almost happy to see water stained popcorn ceilings and a single switched off light fixture hanging overhead. At least until he attempted to sit up and found not only were his wrists bound, but wires were looped around his both shoulders and under his armpits, and around his ankles, effectively pinning him to the cot. He could lift his head but attempting to turn and survey his surroundings left his vision swimming and he was forced to shut his eyes again. Not before catching a glimpse of six hooded figures in long dark robes, standing in a large, open, gray room. And the fact that he was embarrassingly, very naked. Can’t forget that! This situation just got better by the second! (Jazz had told him sarcasm was an excellent coping mechanism, even if it was only in his head.)

“A drink for The Lamb, so that It may be ready for the coming trial.” An airy, feminine voice stated, entirely too close for Danny’s liking. 

Eyes flying open, he barely got the chance to gasp before the lip of a wooden pitcher was shoved in between his teeth and a thick, glowing, white substance was being poured down his throat. He swallowed once reflexively, then gagged as the bitter, acidic tasting liquid burned the back of his throat. Just as quickly as she had inserted the pitcher into his mouth, she retracted, leaving him disoriented and gagging.

“Wh- What the… Ancients. What the actual hell?” Danny gasped, shooting the robed woman what he hoped was an intimidating glare. “I’m not a lamb, or whatever, and I’m not about to be a sacrifice for some weirdos playing My Little Satanist! Let. Me. Go.” 

He thrashed, albeit uselessly against the wires pinning him to the bed. The woman, damn her, actually dared to laugh at his predicament. 

“Little Lamb, the time for struggle is over! Can you not see what a glorious day it is? Cleansing atonement is nearly upon us all!” The robed woman had the gall to attempt to pat his head after that - though she almost lost a finger for that stupid move.

Danny bared his teeth and growled. “ Try to touch me again and you’re gonna be cleansing something from those robes.” The threat fell a bit flat without his usual spectral vibrato to back him up but the woman seemed to get the hint nonetheless. She paled considerably under her hood and backed up quite a few paces. 

Again though, he was met with good-natured laughter, this time from her companions. What the hell was wrong with these people? 

“High Priestess, contain your excitement. The Lamb has been chosen for a wonderful purpose but It will need time to probably adjust.” The tall, gruff man was back and he put a steadying hand on the woman’s shoulders. Danny figured he was in charge because his robes were more ornate than the others and were lined with hypnotic, swirling, silver embroidery. The woman must be second in command then, High Priestess to the High Preist and it seemed as though the others weren’t allowed to make any noise except for quiet, excited whispers. 

“The purifying agent should be taking effect any minute now.” The main hooded figure assured his accomplices. “The hour of our Lord is nearly upon us!” 

Moments after these words were spoken, Danny’s core sparked to life. Not in the life-saving burst of white rings, he would have desired, oh no, that would be too easy. Instead, it quietly rumbled inside his chest and began to emit almost soothing numbness that spread out from his torso to his limbs. It wasn’t till it began to reach his neck that Danny realized the effected areas were glowing softly white, just like his ghostly aura. Involuntarily, Danny felt soothed as the white light completely engulfed his head. His thoughts and breathing became even slower than before and the figures watching him expectantly became blurry and out of focus. There must have been some kind of supernatural calming agent in the drink. Distantly, this registered as alarming in the back of Danny’s mind and he clung to it even as the gentle apathy tried to drown it out. 

Again, he thrashed at his bonds, albeit weaker than before. The struggle was useless, he’d have to talk his way out of this one. “Wh- What… Wh’re you do- doing t’ me?” Danny choked out. His tongue felt thick and heavy in his mouth and his voice carried a distinctly unfitting dreamy tone.

Again, the High Priestess stepped forward to stroke his hair, except this time Danny had no energy to stop her. “I’m so glad you asked Little Lamb,” she practically purred, “we are the Forgotten Children and we seek to bring about the glorious rise of our god, Lord Phantom.” 

“What!?!” Even drugged out of his mind, Danny could tell this statement was fatuous. “Li- Listen, lady. I- er- Phantom he- he’s s’not a god. He’sa ghost. He doesn’t ne- want OR need sacr’fices.” he slurred.

“That’s where you are mistaken Lamb.” the High Preist was right beside him. When had he gotten there? The man placed one of his large, firm hands on Danny’s shoulder. “See, our organization has been chronicling the exploits of Phantom as far back as 753 AD in Rome. He was described as a being of pure light and power, fighting back enemies of Darkness with only a wave of his hand.” 

“Typical ghos’ fight.”

“Not quite, see, Ancient Romans had ghosts just like we do now; they knew how specters behaved. However, they had something we rarely see nowadays. Gods.” The man’s already wide smile got even bigger, disappearing into the shadows that cast over his face. “They told tales of how this being could shift between Light and Dark, Living and Death,” Danny caught sight of wide gleaming eyes as the man leaned closer to him, “and Human and Ghost.” 

Uh Oh. “I-”

The High Preist cut him off. “Unfortunately, our Lord has seemed to have lost this power somewhere down the line. Fortuitously, we are confident we can fully cement him into God-hood once again. By providing him a sacrificial host. Then, he will reward his loyal followers by seating us by his right hand when he purifies the world, returning us to the rightful Age of Gods. ” 

Okay, there was too much wrong with that sentence to even articulate but one thing stood out to Danny most of all. “Why me?” he whined, feeling a bit pathetic at this point. 

The High Priestess shot him a knowing smile. “Oh Little Lamb, because you’ve been marked.” She lightly pressed two fingers against the skin above his core, which thrilled at her touch. Stupid touch-starved ghost half. “He has chosen to mark you as his chosen host, by placing a sliver of his soul inside of you. Isn’t that joyous news?!” 

She shot him a smile so wide and dazzling that the only thing his overwhelmed brain could think to do was return it. It was amusing how wrong she was. Danny already was Phantom’s human half! They didn’t need to turn him into a “host.” He opened up his mouth to tell her, ignoring the quiet voice in the back of his head telling him that it was a bad idea when he was struck by how funny this situation was. Actually, everything was really funny right now. He couldn’t suppress the giggles that began to spill from his lips as his core began producing another wave of calming bliss. 

“Quickly, the purification has taken full effect. We must make haste.” The High Preist left Danny’s side to make room for the four other figures who began to… rub his shoulders? No. They were smearing something onto him, a chalky, slightly glittery paste that they drew weird patterns in. If Danny were more aware, he might be able to make out the Latin scriptures they were writing across his chest. As it were, he knew it tickled and it was all very silly. He shot the High Priestess a goofy grin as she rhythmically stroked his hair. Silly lady. Silly cult.

Danny felt them unwind the wries that bound him to the bed and many hands begin to lift him. He gasped delightedly. It was like that one party game… what was it called? Oh yes! Light as a Feather Stiff as a Board. Maybe this was a sleepover after all. The lowered him unto the ground inside a large, intricate, arcane sigil carved into the floor. Danny shivered as his bare skin met cold concrete. He wanted his clothes back, but he was too tired to ask for them back. He was so very tired. If this was a sleepover it was time for them all to go to bed. He curled into a ball as the numbness feeling intensified and the runes around the outer rim of the sigil began to glow an ominous purple. 

Danny could hear the others still talking, or more accurately chanting. He tried to focus on what they were saying but every time he tried to focus, the numbness swept his thoughts away, distracting him from what he was supposed to be doing. He managed to make out words like “life,” “death,” “utopia.” Nothing the crazies hadn’t been spouting off previously. He’d rather focus on the pleasant coolness that spread through his conscience like river water, or how his core was excitedly twisting inside his chest. Nice, soft sensations.

One command cut through the static of his addled mind. “Rise Lamb,” the High Preist intoned, stepping inside the sigil and offering Danny his hand “take your place among the stars.”

Danny’s core implored him to comply. They were going to place him among the stars - he loved the stars. Heaving himself to his knees, he placed his chin in the High Preist’s outstretched hand. He was much too tired to hold his head up all on his lonesome. 

“Are you ready Lamb?” Upon saying this, the High Preist produced a long thin object from the long, lacey robe sleeve of his free hand. A stick? Well, Danny couldn’t really tell, his vision was much too distorted to make out much of anything. He hummed noncommittally, ready for what?

And with that, the High Priest slashed the blade across Danny’s exposed throat. 

XxXxX

It was all over the news by the weekend. An occult ritual in an abandoned warehouse just outside the town borders of Amity Park was the biggest break journalists in Amity had gotten since the mass realization that ghosts were a real thing. Police had discovered it on Friday, March 13th when the received an anonymous tip that there had been screaming down by the abandoned Ford Factory. In the following 2 days, Lance Thunder, with his pressed suit and perfect hair, had informed all the honest residents of Amity Park that the police had discovered evidence of child sacrifice, with seven believed victims. 

Predictably, this shocked and horrified all the town folk - weird rituals, and doomsday cults were products of big cities and weird drugs, nothing like it had been seen in a tight-knit community like Amity. The police wouldn’t give out the name of the victim but news traveled fast in small towns - and everyone knew the Fenton’s 16-year-old son had gone missing a few days prior to when the sight was uncovered. Many casseroles were left on the front porch of the Fenton residence, sometimes with nice, polite apologetic notes. They went untouched. It was a shame, a damn shame, the residents all murmured between tight pursed lips. Amity was supposed to be a nice, safe community. Not a place teenage boys died much too young. 

Everyone had thought that the cultist must have killed themselves after they were done. People like that were known for “drinking the kool-aid” so to speak. It wasn’t till an update on the case a week later that the police revealed that the coroner ruled their deaths as murders as well- asphyxiation and blood loss for most of them.

Then, one of the newer officers broke down to his wife, told her about the egregious state the bodies were found in, throats crushed, limbs torn asunder, hearts clawed out and crushed to a pulp. He told her there had been distinctly only 6 bodies, plus one horrifyingly large bloodstain coating most of the floor. True to form, young ladies in small towns love to gossip and this was quite swiftly common knowledge about the town. That tidbit had unsettled some residents, ghosts were one thing but those people were trying to conjure gods. They couldn’t of… No that was silly. People in cults were crazy after all, they probably went mad and killed each other after killing that poor boy and dumping his body elsewhere.

After all, there were no gods in Amity Park. That would be silly, wouldn’t it?


End file.
